Ashes to Ashes a wasteland tale
by Symmetrymaster
Summary: With the brotherhood caught up in their war against the super mutants the capital wasteland has descended back into chaos. One group steps up to the challenge of restoring "peace" by any means necessary.
1. Chapter 1

The slave awoke suddenly. He was in a cart being hauled by two Brahmin. Along the sides of it were strange looking slavers, all armed with assault rifles.

"Where the hell am I ?" He managed to say in an annoyed tone. He was beginning to feel the lump on his head were he was hit. "Well look who's alive back there!" Cooed one of the armed slavers. "I was beginin t'think" that were were gonna have to dump you off soon." The slave looked at the other passengers. Not exactly an impressive to see. There were five others none of them looked like the usual settlers or wanderers that got caught. There were was one ratty looking jet junky, trembling and muttering to herself, two raiders with the usual crazy hair and scared over bodies, and then the other two both stocky well built, almost like soldiers. One the the soldiers looked at him. "So...mister how's your head feeling". He said it with a crooked almost cruel smile. Not much of a question in other words. The slave appraised the soldier for a second before smiling then spitting in his face. The slaver laughed at this and pointed it out to the others. "Look at that guys, I must've lost count of how many times I've seen people spit in poor Tim's face now!" The soldier "Tim" glared at the slave but didn't do anything besides that. The slave looked over at the slavers. "You know that moron?"

"Course we do! Half the idiots up there with you were working with us up until they decided fuck with the merchandise one to many times!"

The slave sat and considered this for another moment. "So where are we going...Paradise Falls?"

"You wish" mumbled one of the raiders.

"Oh no, you have a much more special place to go." Smiled the slaver, seeming to enjoy himself thoroughly now. "You are taking a lovely trip to Rivet City!"

"I thought there weren't any slaves in Rivet City"

"Ah but that's the point, your all not slaves." The smiling slaver explained.

The man who apparently was not a slave just stared at the slaver. "Then what are we?"

This time Tim spoke up "We're fuckin cannon fodder, that's what."


	2. Chapter 2 Rivet City

When they finally arrived the sun was beginning to set over the D.C. ruins. The cart stopped at the staircase. In front of them lay the aircraft carrier which had now become known as Rivet City. The slavers rushed and shoved the prisoners off the cart.

"All right, get down on your knees ASAP!" yelled the talkative slaver. The prisoners obliged him. The other 5 slavers walked up and clipped slave collars around their necks.

"So you sure we're not slaves?" Said the prisoner in an sarcastic monotone.

"Just shut it!" hissed Tim.

The prisoner didn't look at him, he just smiled and tilted his head a bit. There was some blood dripping out of the goose egg sized lump in his skull. All five prisoners were marched up the steps to the bridge. The "slavers" called in at the bridge and to the surprise of the beat up prisoner, the bridge swung over and connected to the stairs. The guard at the door didn't say a word. He seemed to be angry and alert the entire 10 seconds it took for them to walk past him. Without so much as a word the prisoners were taken up to the flight deck. All the while crowds of local residents watched and chatted about the spectacle being arranged on the deck.

On deck the prisoners saw a crowd of people 75 strong. Most of them were like the prisoners. They had slave collars around their necks and looked either beat up or out of place. Surrounding them at a distance were more slavers and guards. They all seemed to have combat armor on. Or at least some kind of military garb, and of course all had clean looking assault rifles and shotguns. The five were walked into the crowd. Then were left there. There was plenty of talking, cursing, and confusion coming from all the people there. Some seemed to be demanding an answer to all of this, some seemed to be panicking and screaming frantically at the guards, and a few just seemed to be either crying or silent at their situation. The lumped up prisoner decided at this moment to just sit down at think for a moment.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, get up!" said a random prisoner looking down at him.

The injured prisoner looked up a said "I'm sorry is there a rule here that states none of us can sit down?" The other prisoner just looked at him like he was crazy, then seemed to think for a second, then just plopped down next to him. Some of the other prisoners saw this and looked at it as an opportunity to finally sit, so they all got down as well. And before long the crowd noticed and began a mass sit down as well. The prisoner saw this and smiled a bit. The crowd had stopped upmost of its complaints, and things had gotten much quieter.

Almost immediately afterwards the relative silence was broken by the sound of one of the metal hatches slamming open. Out of it slowly paced one man followed by two guards. The man was relatively short, about 5ft 5. He had fake looking blonde hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. On those eves was a pair of glasses that had no glass in them. He had some kind of scavenged generals uniform on, cut and patched. A pair of warn scratched up boots, and of course a captains hat that had been dipped in black paint. The prisoner had seen him for all of 6 seconds and he already knew that he was dealing with a very petty insecure excuse of a "commander".

The commander walked up in front of the crowd and observed them for a moment. All of the prisoners quieted down and did the same, appraising him, trying to figure out just who he was in all of this.

After the moment he spoke in an extremely condescending voice.

"Good afternoon soldiers." He said with a smile.

"I bet you are all wondering why you have been mercifully spared be me and my troops?"

The air was still now, everyone was listening to the pretentious little man standing before them.

"The ruins of this once prosperous capital have fallen into an abysmal landscape of lawlessness." He stopped and straightened his broken glasses. "And do you know why it has stayed this way? Hmmm".

There wasn't much of a response, the crowd just watched him now, almost morbidly interested at what he would say next. "It is because of you!" He said while accusingly pointing at one prisoner in front of him. "And you!" He said in the direction of another prisoner.

"And you, and you, and you." He said over and over again pointing around the group.

"It is all of you poor dregs that have been a menace to the peace and security of the district here!"

"Maybe you can change that...how you may ask? Simple, repentance. You are all capable of it. After all who do you think you all are? You are criminals, but not just any, you are the worst of the worst! The most dangerous, the most infamous, the most vicious!"

The crowd still silent began to look amongst each other. What was he doing, complimenting them, or insulting them. Whatever the case he had their attention now, even the prisoner who first took his seat was looking and listening now.

"You are to make up for everything, to receive a pardon for the various crimes you have committed. However to attain forgiveness and amnesty from the good people of D.C. area you must first repent! And to do that you will have to pay penance in the form conscription into the new D.C. National Guard!"


	3. Chapter 3 March on Washington

The conscripts were herded off the deck and across the water to the detached bow of the ship. The "national guard" had killed its former occupant and converted it into their base of bow section originally had many blocked off sections, but with some work most of the rooms and corridors had been opened up, and had the water pumped out of them. The prisoners had all already been stripped of their weapons, so the conscripts were all given hunting rifles, and occasionally a small pistol. They were allotted 30 rounds each. "You all know how to scavenge and loot! You don't need us to hold your fuckin hands." shouted a guard when concerns over the ammunition came up.

"We are deploying in 15 minutes!" Yelled another guard.

The whole space was lit up with worry. All of the conscripts were stuck, all terrified about being shot, or getting their head blown up. The man with the lump just leaned against the bulkhead. Biting his lip and thinking deeply. He knew this was no good. It was a loose loose situation. For him at least. There wasn't much of a way to weasel out of this mess. He looked over and saw a broken mirror on the wall. It wast the first time he had seen himself in weeks. A 6ft 2 walking rag doll looked back at him. With a face covered in a flirty beard, caked in dust and mud. Clothes torn patched wrinkled and cracked in some places. He seemed as though he had been mauled by a death claw. Seemingly black hair sat ruffled and unkempt on his head. Dry and heywire like the rest of his appearance. Even the blood on his face had dried to match the appearance. Through the dirt there was pale skin, and a pair of dead looking eyes. A mix between grey and almost white. Zombie eyes he'd heard a few people say behind his back. In short he resembled a walking corpse. He frowned at that. He looked like he was already at deaths door. He looked down at the collar. Grabbing the edge he rotated it around to look at it, and tried to examine it further.

"Don't do that."

He looked up. A calm and frank voice came from a woman walking up to him. She had some kind of combat armor on. She was significantly cleaner looking, albeit with some grime accumulated from the journey. She had tanned skin and brown short cut hair. He suddenly remembered. She was on the cart with him. One of the national guard members who had been thrown in with that slaves.

"I'm just looking" he said in a flat voice.

"You got a name?"

He gave her a sarcastic smile at that. "What's yours?"

She didn't smile at that. "Cut the bullshit, you name what is it."

He seemed to straighten up at that.

"Aren, my name is Aren."

"Well Aren, don't blow yourself up. You're with me after all."

"Is that right? Says who?"

"Says me, I was in charge of most of the idiots guarding us on deck at one point."

"You must be having one hell of a week" he cooed.

She did not respond to that. She just walked up to another conscript and talked to them.

10 minutes later they were all escorted out. The march they took lead them into the ruins across from the Jefferson Memorial. Aren found the tan woman and walked up to her.

"I was wondering were you went she mumbled"

"Sorry, just sight seeing"

He looked behind her. Following closely were six others. Three of them a man and two women looked like generic wasteland weirdos, mohawks and grime on their faces. The other three were a bit more "composed" from the sight of things. There was a man in a merc troublemaker outfit holding his hunting rifle well. Then another man who from the looks of it seemed always on edge, looking left and right, and always seeming to wriggle his fingers. But competently held his rifle when he wasn't busy twitching around. Then finally at the end of the line there was a face he knew. It was none other than Tim. He appraised him with a little more detail. Tim was like tan woman cleaner them most of the captives. He had slicked back auburn hair. Like some kind of ginger greaser he thought with a smile.

"What are you looking at dumbass?" Tim said.

"Nothing" Replied Aren with the smile still stuck to his face.

Tim just giving him a funny look turned over to the tan woman and spoke.

"So Ash, what did you hear"

She turned back and gave him a grim look.

"They got us going up against super mutants. No Talon company, no raiders."

She turned toward again and let out a sigh.

"We're going up against monsters"

Aren slowed down his pace at this. He had seen the mutants before, he watched them dismember and devour several people since he arrived in the capital wasteland. Even worse, he had seen them drag a few prisoners off to god-knows-were.

Aren coughed lightly and felt a rising feeling of fear growing in his stomach.

"So why are we fighting the mutants anyway, isn't that the brotherhood's job?" Aren asked neutrally. The woman "Ash" responded quickly.

"They're cutting off caravan routes, attacking anyone who comes near the city limits" she paused and looked at the ruins hard.

"You didn't hear about that?"

"I haven't been here long" replied Aren

"We're going past the memorial and down by the Potomac. There is an old raider camp that's been taken over by those things, then past that there is a road that connects to the bridge. That area is infested with mutants and centaurs."

Aren raised an eyebrow.

"Jeez did you plan this all out?"

"Yeah, actually I did."

"So...Ash...how did you end up with a slave collar on?"

She turned back to him, then answered very frankly.

"I'm a murderer"

Aren gave a legitimate smile at that.

"So are we all" he mumbled.


End file.
